Motley Moments
by Lordy Duffano
Summary: Me putting some random postDH oneshots all in one place. Obviously, spoiler alert. Suggestions welcome. Rated T for safety.
1. Intro

Right, so, short introduction to the new fic.

My friend expressed a desire to see random scenes from the lives of the characters after the end of Deathly Hallows. Her initial comment was something along the lines of "I want to see a family dinner with the Potter and Weasely families." And I thought "Yeah, that'd be neat." So, as usual, I told her that I'd write it for her. But, I thought, why stop there?

So, this is basically an anthology type fic where I stick a bunch of oneshots ranging in time spacing from the defeat of Voldemort, not necessarily the 19-years-later epilogue. I welcome (even plead for) any and all ideas for things for me to write, although I by no means promise to write every single thing proposed. And I'm the writer in this instance, so don't gripe at me if I do it different from your idea of it. You can write it over if you like. Credit will be given to the initial idea...giver... in the beginning of said chapter/oneshot. Hm. I think that's it.

Oh, and I'll probably be continually reordering stuff to have it vaguely in chronological order. Unless that's a retarded idea and enough people tell me so. Yeah.

General Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Actually, I think I'm going to end up not owning most of these ideas either, so... yeah. I own my particular style of narration and that's basically it. This is all speculation, and sometimes I'll make decisions just because they amuse me. Too bad my writer's instinct doesn't work with other people's stories. I'll have to rely on any innate sense of character I have in the dusty corners of my brain.


	2. Lilies for Lily

Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't particularly want it. It's just fun to think about stuff through the characters.

* * *

Harry Potter had been through a lot. He had lost many people. He had been told countless times, especially in the last two months, "We never truly lose the people we love." He was beyond sick of it.

Yes, he had lost many people. The most recent ones he had never had the chance to properly mourn. The past year had, on the whole, flashed past in so many moments of panic, fear, and desperation that the moments of loss were buried. It had begun with Hedwig, with so many others falling past him into that veil between this world and death. Dobby, Tonks, Lupin, Fred, and even more than that. He even felt a type of affection for those he hadn't known who had been willing to die in that grim battle for Hogwarts. Had been willing to die for him, he supposed, so that he could live to defeat Voldemort. And still, his parents, though he could never truly know what he had lost. Even that had been taken from him, that October evening sixteen years ago.

And here he was, not far from where it had all taken place. He stood looking down at the graves of his parents, and he couldn't help but think of the last time he had stood in this spot. The fear, desperation, and so much else that had been left at the graveyard gate. The calm, aching sadness of an orphaned boy, safely borne within the little fence.

This time he had remembered to bring flowers. He had stolen away from the warmth of the kitchen at the Burrow, found some flowers that he hoped wouldn't eat Muggles as they passed or something equally problematic, and Apparated to Godric's Hollow. It wouldn't be long now until someone noticed he was gone. Hermione would probably be able to guess where he had gone, perhaps even Ginny.

As usual, his heart swelled at the thought of Ginny. Whatever he had lost, he had at least gained her. This was almost more important to him than the fact that finally, after sixteen years, he never had to fear Voldemort again. He didn't care to think about it. The complications that would arise would be far too bothersome. And Harry definitely felt that he deserved a break from anything resembling strenuous.

Thoughts of Ginny inevitably led to thoughts of her family, then to the rest of his friends. The kitchen he had left behind had indeed been warm, and full of love, chatter, and the simple joy of living. There were still moments when the losses they had all suffered elbowed their way into the happiness, but they were not borne for long. Harry still found himself expecting Fred to finish George's sentences, or to join George in a battle of witty one-liners at the expense of one of their siblings. It would probably have been Ron. George had been abusing Ron enough on his own to make that certain. The appearance of Andromeda Tonks, carrying baby Teddy, had been a temporary damper thrown on them, but not for long. Teddy was cooed over by the women, awkwardly but earnestly admired by the men, and Harry had even gotten to hold his godson. At his first protestations, Andromeda had told him that Lupin and Tonks had informed her of their wishes, and she saw little reason to change them. With that, the baby had been placed in his arms, and he looked anxious enough to send Hermione and Ginny into fits of laughter. Any sadness still lingering had dissipated. Soon afterward, Harry had slipped away in the chaos of George setting off some sort of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes prototype.

The gate opened behind him, a light step was heard, and it clicked shut again. He didn't turn as they walked towards him, the gravel path crunching. He had a feeling he knew who it was.

"Hey," Ginny said softly, stopping beside him and taking his hand. He pressed her hand, unwilling to speak, then put his arm around her and drew her close beside him. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder, looking down at his parents' graves with him.

They stood like that for a long time, it seemed. It was probably only a handful of minutes, but it was long enough. Harry cleared his throat, and straightened a little. "Sorry," he said.

Ginny smiled at him. "Don't apologize. At least, not to me. If you must apologize, apologize to Mum. She nearly had a heart attack when we realized you were gone. George graciously pointed out that you had survived Ron's stupidity, not to mention Voldemort's wrath, so you were perfectly at liberty to go for a walk."

Harry snorted. "I'm sure she appreciated that," he said.

"Near about took his other ear off, she yelled so loud," she said, a mischievous quirk in her smile. "Then Teddy started howling, of course. Dad was trying to calm her down as I snuck out."

"How'd you find me?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I guessed. Or-- I dunno. I just had a feeling I should look here," she replied. She paused. "D'you feel ready to go back? Or do you want more time here?"

Harry took a calming breath and gazed at the headstone one more time. "No, I'm ready." He laid the little bunch of flowers he had brought on the grave. He stood just in time to see Ginny pulling a bouquet of lilies from her wand.

She laid the lilies beside his flowers and looked at him sheepishly. "I know it's lame," she said, "lilies for Lily, but..."

"No," he said, his throat for some reason clogging with emotion. "It's not-- well, I-- thanks."

She took his hand again, and they walked through the village to the outskirts. Together, they turned on the spot and Apparated to the Burrow.

* * *

A/N: Hooray for sappiness! I promise that most of the other ones will be joyous and mirthful. Reviews appreciated, more ideas for me to write more than appreciated. Much love, all! 


	3. George Day

Disclaimer: Her characters are too fun to not play with.

A/N: Upon several requests from my friend Nanners and whoever jaymsies is (::awkward smile::), a chapter about George. Hope everyone enjoys!

* * *

Mrs. Weasley was pacing in the kitchen, muttering to herself. Harry and Ginny were peeling tubers, talking quietly. Mrs. Weasley had been peeling them by magic, but an owl from George had arrived, and Harry and Ginny had had to save supper from her nerves.

George was coming home. It was unclear to Harry whether George had decided this on his own, or if the family had compelled him, but it wasn't particularly important. Either way, George was leaving the lonely flat above Weasley Wizarding Wheezes and returning to live at the Burrow.

Harry was anxious about being here, now, when George was due to arrive at any minute. He hadn't seen George much since Fred had died; their meeting would necessarily be awkward, Harry was certain. Ginny made an exasperated noise as Harry nearly cut off his thumb. "Honestly, you're as bad as Mum," she grumbled, divesting him of his knife and continuing the peeling alone. "What the hell do you have to be nervous about, anyway?" she demanded quietly, as Mrs. Weasley flitted between windows, peering anxiously for George.

"Fred died because of me," Harry whispered back.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Harry, it _wasn't your fault_," Ginny snapped. "You and Percy are both convinced you killed Fred, and you're both daft. Merlin, the corridor _exploded_, what were you supposed to do?"

Harry looked miserable, but as he opened his mouth, Mrs. Weasley gasped. She was staring at her clock; George's hand had jumped to Travelling. A moment later, a knock sounded at the door. Mrs. Weasley threw it open, and there stood George, with a battered trunk at his feet. "Boo," he said.

Mrs. Weasley burst into sobs—she had recently developed this disturbing tendency—and threw herself into George's arms. "I'm so glad you're home!" she kept repeating.

"Hi, Mum. Harry, give us a hand."

Harry jumped to his feet and helped George drag his trunk into the kitchen, their efforts somewhat thwarted by the fact that George was required to keep an arm around his mother.

"Mum, honestly, calm down,"George said. "I know it's been boring with just these babies around, but you could always have tried remodeling."

Harry and Ginny stared at him, confused and unsure as to what, exactly, was happening. Mrs. Weasley collected herself, contented herself with giving George a tight hug, and collected the peeled tubers from Ginny.

"So where's my parade?" George asked. "I thought you'd all be so overjoyed that I was moving back in that you'd throw a parade." He looked around. "The whole family isn't even assembled. Now I'm offended." Harry and Ginny grinned at each other, relieved George was acting normal. In a relative sense.

"Your father, Charlie, and Percy are at work. Bill and Fleur are coming for supper. And Ron—I have no idea where Ron is. He and Hermione disappeared a while ago," said Mrs. Weasley.

An evil grin spread over George's face. "Really?" he said airily. "Well, I'll just go see what they're up to, and why they haven't come to sob with joy at my feet." He started for the stairs.

Harry and Ginny reacted simultaneously, and dove for George. Ginny caught hold of him, and Harry staggered into a wall. Ginny forced her brother over to the table and into a chair. "I'll go get them," Harry offered, cringing inside as he made good his escape.

"Alright there, Ginny?" George said conversationally, as if she hadn't just practically tackled him.

"Pretty good, yeah," she answered, pulling off the same effect.

"Harry been around much?" he asked innocently.

Ginny blushed in a spectacular manner, and mumbled something.

George leaned in close. "Is she always… you know… like this?" he whispered, nodding to their mother.

Ginny shrugged, looking somber. "It comes and goes. I think she'll feel better now that you're home."

George leaned back again. "I think I can think of a few ways to cheer her up," he said thoughtfully.

"George, I don't think—"

"They were, um… yeah," Harry said, practically falling down the stairs. "They're coming."

"Oh, well, if I'm interrupting something…"

"_George_," Ginny groaned.

Ron and Hermione clambered down the stairs. "You're home," Ron observed.

"And so are you! Coincidence, isn't it?" George said. "I'm surprised at the two of you. Didn't you know it was George Day?"

"George Day?" Hermione repeated, confused.

"I've decided we're making this a family holiday. I must've forgotten to put it in my note. That would explain the lack of parade, too," George said.

"Parade?" Ron asked. "Why would we have a parade?"

"Because you love me oh-so-much, little brother."

"Exactly, why would we—"

Hermione elbowed Ron in the stomach.

* * *

Ginny knocked on the door to what was now only George's bedroom. "George?" she called softly.

The door opened. A pajama clad George leaned against the door frame. "It's nearly midnight," he informed her.

"Actually, it's ten past. Can I come in?"

"I could have been asleep."

"Well you aren't."

"But I could have been."

"Are you letting me in or not?" Ginny demanded.

George sighed dramatically and stepped back to let her in. She stepped past him, and he closed the door behind her. "So, sis, just feeling the urge for a midnight chat between us chums? Shall I make us some hot cocoa?"

"How are you, George?"

He went over to the window. Moonlight was pouring through it to bathe the boxes still left in the room. "If you're going to get all mushy about Fred with me, there's the door," he said, his voice tight.

"George, I—well…. You have to understand, we just—" Ginny stopped, frustrated, and scowled at the floor beneath her bare feet.

"Didn't have a plan when you came in here, did you?" George said, leaning against the window frame.

"Nope."

"You were just assuming I'd start pouring my heart out and burst into tears or something?"

"I don't know what I was assuming."

"Well, I'm not going to break down, Ginny," he said, a hard note in his voice. It softened a moment later, though, and he rubbed his forehead, saying, "It's not what he would want us to do."

Deciding that she was allowed to stay, Ginny sat down on a box.

"I wouldn't sit on that," George said. "I'm not entirely sure what we still have stored in here. That might explode."

Ginny jumped up, and joined him at the window. They watched a gnome run through the moonlit garden. "What are you going to do about the store?" she asked.

"What kind of stupid question is that?" George said, a startled expression on his face. "The store's staying open."

"Good. I guess it's what he would've wanted," Ginny said.

George grinned unexpectedly. "Yes, he would have liked the idea of chaos spreading through future generations via Weasley Wizarding Wheezes."

"And today, is that also what he would have wanted?" Ginny asked gently.

George made a face, apparently at the moon. "He would have wanted it named Fred Day."

"George."

"I dunno, Gin. To an extent, yes. But the rest… that was what I wanted." He flopped down on his bed.

After a few minutes, Ginny said, "I'm not leaving."

"Of course you aren't," George said. "You've developed Ron's sense of tact."

"That's offensive."

He grinned at the ceiling. "Of course it is."

Several more minutes passed, and Ginny yawned. "I know you're awake," she told George.

He didn't say anything for so long that Ginny nearly went to shake him. But finally, he said, "It's just so unnatural. Him not being around." He sat up to look at her. She turned away to the window, hugging herself. "He was always around. Other people were around a lot too, of course. But he was Fred. I always had Fred."

"Do you miss him?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"He _was _my twin."

"Really? I had no idea," she said, laughter and tears mixed in her voice.

"Of course I miss him." He stretched back out on the bed. "It's like my arm's been cut off." His mouth twitched. "Or my ear."

Ginny laughed and turned back around. Her eyes were a little overly bright, but there were no other signs that could point to tears. "You're really alright?"

George nodded. "It's better being home. The flat was too empty."

Ginny snorted. "Whatever happens in this house, I'm sure we'll never find it empty."

They were silent again. Ginny watched a pair of gnomes get into a fight in the garden. George traced with his eyes the path of some burn on the wall that he had forgotten about. "You know, I've been thinking," he said eventually, smiling to himself. "Do you think Mum would let me change my name to Forge?"

"Do so at your own peril," Ginny warned. "She'd cry for a month."

George made a face. "Nevermind."

"Well, I'm off to bed," Ginny yawned. George got up and followed her to the door, and opened it for her. "G'night."

"Night." She started down the stairs to her room. "Hey, Gin?" he called softly. She paused and looked back at him. "You and Harry…"

She smiled brilliantly. "Yeah."

"Ah. So when's the wedding?"

Ginny nearly fell down the stairs.

"Just checking," George said, laughing, and closed the door.

* * *

A/N: I hope that last bit wasn't too sad. I didn't want it to be. Plus it's extremely difficult to write a character sad when you've never seen how they behave sadly. ::thinks that through again:: Yes. Exactly.

And NO, Ron and Hermione were not… doing… that. They were making out. Snogging, as it were. Still awkward for Harry to interrupt. Then again, he did have to tolerate Won-won and Lav-lav. ::shudders::

You know the drill. LOVE.


	4. The Boy Who Babysits

Disclaimer: Is this disclaimer really the only thing that keeps me safe from the FBI? Is me saying "Sorry, this isn't mine, I'm just stealing it for kicks" really enough to make the copyright infringements all okay?

Just checking.

Haha, but this chapter's idea is mine! Bwuhahaha, I own this much at least.

* * *

_I should have brought Hermione with me. Or Ginny. No, Ginny's in school. Hermione. Definitely should have brought Hermione_, Harry thought, as he waved goodbye to Andromeda Tonks through the emerald green flames engulfing her. She was going to Diagon Alley for a day of errands. Harry had offered to babysit Teddy for the day, saying that she had been caring for the child for an entire year mostly by herself, and she deserved some time off.

In hindsight, this was a very foolish thing to do. Harry barely knew one end of the baby from the other, had some vague idea of how to hold the thing, and had a long note tucked in his back pocket detailing how to care for little Teddy Lupin. It felt like some owner's manual for proper use that Mr. Weasley would be fascinated to peruse. Except it wasn't for a television, it was for a baby. His godson, to be exact.

Harry sighed and turned to the baby, who was currently on his back in the playpen that was set up in the sitting room, attempting to catch his toes with his chubby little hands. Harry peered over the side at Teddy, feeling like a Muggle bomb squad inspecting a suspicious package. Teddy spotted him, emitted an ear shattering shriek, and turned his hair black. Harry decided that this meant Teddy recognized him from the times he had seen him before, and picked him up.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," Harry said, relief evident in his voice. "You're less floppy than you were last time." Teddy responded by punching him in the face. "Thanks for that," Harry muttered, craning his neck to take his face out of the line of fire. Teddy gurgled happily and wriggled, kicking him in the stomach. Harry hurriedly replaced the baby in the playpen, and backed away a few feet.

A deathly quiet descended before, suddenly, Teddy began screaming at the top of his lungs.

Harry lurched, and felt fairly certain that he had just narrowly avoided fainting. Hurriedly, he returned to the side of playpen and stared at Teddy helplessly. Teddy stopped crying, and held his arms up to Harry. Wide-eyed, Harry shook his head resolutely. Teddy screwed up his face, his hair flashing to bright, unnatural red, and screamed again.

"Alright, alright!" Harry cried, frightened that Andromeda would for some reason return at any second and accuse him of neglecting her grandson. He picked Teddy up again. All signs of upset immediately disappeared. Harry bounced Teddy awkwardly, having seen mothers do this sometimes when he was a child. Teddy's hair returned to his favorite bright blue. "You're a right piece of work, kid," Harry informed the child in his arms, who grinned and tried to steal his glasses. "No, those are mine." He pushed the little hands away. Teddy settled for grasping his ear and pulling. "Ow!"

Teddy giggled and echoed, "Ow!" He pulled Harry's ear again. Harry gritted his teeth, and gingerly shifted Teddy more firmly onto his hip, balancing him there to get the wad of parchment out of his back pocket that was his set of instructions for the day.

"Alright," Harry said, pacing absently and reading. Teddy cooed happily and began amusing himself by changing his hair color rapid-fire. "I suppose I should feed you. Are you hungry, Teddy?"

The next half-hour would probably have amused Harry if he had been a mere spectator, not a participant. In later years, after raising his own children, he looked back on the memory and laughed. But, at present, a very amused baby with very good aim and a jar of pureed something or other were formidable opponents. Even after Harry cast a charm to repel the baby food, Teddy flung mashed whatever. He even flung more directly at Harry, apparently immensely entertained by the food bouncing off an invisible barrier two inches from the end of Harry's nose. In the end, though, Harry succeeded in his mission, and the baby was successfully fed the jar of food.

Upon reading the feeding directions further, Harry rummaged through the kitchen until he found the prepared bottles of formula for Teddy. As he passed splotches of baby food, he waved his wand and removed the majority of the mess. Maybe if the little bugger—bundle of joy, rather—ever went to sleep he could clean more thoroughly. "Okay, you, time to spread the damage around." He picked the baby up and handed him the bottle, intending to continue the feeding in the sitting room. Awkwardly clutching the bottle to his chest with one little hand, Teddy reached out the other and pushed Harry's glasses off of his face and onto the floor.

Harry groaned, and set Teddy on his rump on the floor. On his hands and knees, he felt around for his glasses. After a minute of searching, he decided they had bounced further than he had thought and resorted to "Accio glasses!" The glasses dutifully zoomed into his right eye. Grumbling, Harry resettled the glasses onto his nose and looked round to pick Teddy up again.

He nearly passed out when he was met with an empty room. "Shit!" Panicked, he scrambled to his feet and began searching the kitchen. Halfway through checking all the cabinets, he calmed down enough to realize that Teddy had probably toddled to somewhere else in the house. As if on cue, he heard squealing from the direction of the hall. Hoping that wasn't some specific squeal of pain that his untrained ears didn't recognize, he went into the hallway, muttering to himself, "Of course, I have to get the _gifted_ baby that can already _Disapparate_ apparently, and—"

He broke off in terror as he spotted Teddy standing unsteadily at the top of the stairs, holding his bottle and looking immensely pleased with himself. "Boo!" Teddy yelled.

"Boo," Harry repeated weakly. "Um. Teddy, stay there. Harry's com—Teddy!"

Teddy had lurched, and Harry thought for a heart-stopping moment that he was going to pitch headfirst down the stairs. But no, Teddy had just thrown his bottle. Fascinated, Harry watched as the bottle bounced down the stairs and soared through the air—

To hit him square in the face. Sputtering through a film of formula, Harry picked the bottle up from where it had fallen, and climbed the stairs to Teddy.

Teddy had a strange look on his face, and Harry had a momentary fear that he had managed to poison him. But then the facial expression had passed, and Teddy was smiling at him.

"Poo," Teddy said to him.

Harry stared at him, praying he had misheard. "Boo?" he said hopefully.

"Poo!" Teddy said vehemently, pulling at his diaper. And then the smell reached Harry's nostrils.

"Oh God."

Teddy lay on the changing table, waving his hands and squealing while Harry grappled with this new obstacle in his mind. "Alright, this shouldn't be hard," he said, unsure of why he was talking to an infant. "I just take off the dirty diaper, wipe your bum, and put a clean one on, right?" He stared at this infamous diaper, and had to shake himself. "It's not difficult. I can do this. After all, I battled a dragon when I was fourteen. I killed the most powerful dark wizard in the world last year. Changing diapers is a piece of cake, right?" Grimacing, and prefering to battle the dragon and Voldemort simultaneously, Harry gingerly opened the diaper.

A wave of poo-stench hit his nose and he coughed a little. "You're a rancid little bugger," Harry informed Teddy, trying to fan the smell away.

Halfway through the already traumatizing ordeal, Teddy squirmed and sent a stream of urine into the air. Years of Quidditch and battle honed instincts kicked in, and Harry managed to dodge the main stream, and was only slightly sprinkled before he could escape firing range.

He buried his head in his hands. "Oh my God. He just peed on me. I have just been _peed on_ by an infant." A shriek from the changing table snapped him out of his reverie, and he approached cautiously. "Are you quite done?" he asked Teddy. Teddy scowled at him, apparently put out that it was taking so long to have his diaper changed. Muttering under his breath, Harry finished changing him and mopped up the errant urine. Hoisting the wriggling baby into his arms again, he went into the sitting room.

Teddy howled when Harry put him back in the playpen, but Harry needed to be sure he wouldn't disappear again while he called for reinforcement. Taking a handful of Floo powder, he flung it into the fire. Kneeling in front of the green flames, he shoved his head into their midst and shouted "Number 12 Grimmauld Place!"

When his vision stopped spinning, he was looking on the familiar kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. The kitchen was empty except for Kreacher, who was happily reorganizing the cupboards for some ridiculous reason. "Kreacher!" Harry croaked, and spat out a mouthful of ashes.

Kreacher turned and came to the hearth. "Yes, Master? What does Master want?"

"Is Hermione there, Kreacher? Can you get her for me?"

"Yes, Master." Kreacher trotted off to find her. Harry waited impatiently, drumming his fingers on the floor until the sensation of detachment started creeping him out. It was only a few minutes until Kreacher reappeared, leading a worried Hermione.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry said. Kreacher bobbed in a weird bow, and returned to clattering about with the pots and pans.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermioned demanded anxiously. "Is it Teddy? Is he okay? You haven't managed to kill him have you?"

"Wha—I—no, Hermione! I just… uh, need help."

"Where is he now? Harry, you didn't leave him unattended, did you? Harry!"

"Merlin, Hermione, he's right behind me. Listen, can you just come?"

"Yes, yes, I'll be right there."

Harry pulled his head out of the fire, and turned back to Teddy, who had turned his hair the same emerald green as the Floo-powdered fire. "Boo," he said brightly.

"You are a weirdly happy baby," Harry said. "I am thankful, though, that I don't have to figure out how to make you stop crying."

"Woo!"

"Yes, Teddy, woo."

Behind him, the flames turned green again, and Hermione stepped out of the fire onto the rug, sucking ashes off of her clothes with her wand. Teddy clapped his hands delightedly.

"You're here!" Harry said, profusely relieved. "You're a life saver, Hermione. You would not believe it—he peed on me."

Hermione was apparently not listening to him. "Where is he? Oh, there he is!" She walked over to the playpen and picked up Teddy, holding him out and inspecting him, presumably for bodily harm. "Oh, I keep forgetting how cute you are," she cooed at him. Teddy kicked his legs and gurgled. "Has he had his bottle?"

"Hermione, you aren't listening to me. He—"

"Peed on you. Yes, baby boys do that sometimes. Next time you should put something over his-- well, you know—so that if he does pee, it doesn't get all over," Hermione said matter of factly. "Did you clean up the mess?"

"Yes. But Hermione—"

"Stop whining, Harry. You shouldn't have volunteered to babysit him alone if you couldn't handle it."

"I could handle it," Harry retorted, affronted. "Well, everything up until he peed on me. And really, is that something you expect me to be prepared for?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and plopped down on the rug, settling Teddy in her lap. Teddy squirmed, and clumsily crawled out of her lap. Hermione waved her wand, and several wooden blocks soared over and danced around him. He gurgled and swiped at them. He caught one and pulled, and all of them fell out of the air.

Hermione blinked, surprised that he had broken her charm. "Well, I suppose he is a baby wizard."

Harry felt rather odd, sitting and watching Teddy beat his wooden blocks against the floor and babble rhythmically. There was an element of fatherly affection. After all, he supposed, he must be the closest thing the poor little tyke had for a father. The fact that he was only eighteen, and hardly experienced in anything resembling parenting was a bit of a problem, but Harry figured he could handle it. He just… needed practice.

But other than that, he felt a queer sense of nostalgia. It felt like he was watching some version of his infant self. Teddy had been orphaned by Voldemort, as Harry had. "Poor little chap," he said to Teddy. "Do you remember your parents? Do you miss them?"

"Don't be silly, Harry, he's just a baby. He probably can't remember them," Hermione said.

"I know, I know," he said. Teddy was looking at him somberly. "How about it?" Harry asked, tickling him a little. "D'you remember Mum and Dad?"

Teddy cocked his head. His hair flickered between bubble-gum pink, and a mousy brown.

Hermione gasped. "Oh, the poor little thing," she breathed, picking Teddy up and cuddling him. Teddy babbled happily. He pointed at Harry, and turned his hair black. He reached up and pulled Hermione's hair, turning his the same shade of brown. She laughed. "He's a smart little boy," she said.

"Of course," said Harry, "because all geniuses indentify people by hair color."

Hermione glared at him. Teddy wriggled out of her arms and unsteadily worked his way to standing. Hermione held out her hands, ready to catch him if he should fall. Carefully, he tottered towards Harry.

"Boo!" he said, waving his arms and turning his hair black and his eyes green. "Boo! Boo!" He toppled into Harry's lap, eliciting an anxious squeak from Hermione. "Boo!"

Harry grinned, and tickled him. "Boo, Teddy. Can you say Harry?"

"Har!" Teddy said. "Har!"

"Close enough."

* * *

A/N: Awww, little Teddy.

By the way, how the hell do you write nice Kreacher? Gosh. Stupid Kreacher. It'd be so much easier if I could just have him mutter about mudbloods and filth. Instead I have to have him… reorganize cabinets. Ugh.

As always, happiness and love to reviewers and idea givers! (I really need a better word for that.)


	5. Namesakes

Disclaimer: Whaddaya mean, I don't own them? Dammit! There go my plans for college finance.

Thank you to BookDragon for the wonderful idea. Hope it pleases!

* * *

"So, Mr. Potter."

Eleven-year-old Albus Potter looked up anxiously at Professor Macmillan. Macmillan was pacing around his office, the portraits of past headmasters either sleeping, or watching him while pretending to be sleeping. Every so often, the headmaster would pause, peer at Albus, and say, "_So_, Mr. Potter."

He wished the headmaster would stop pacing and stop saying "_So_," at him. He had been caught--_again_-- trying to find more clues about his parents' years at Hogwarts. He had been out countless times, looking for something to tie his parents more firmly to Hogwarts in his mind. He kept getting caught, though, which was the problem. This time Professor Hawthrop had shouted in exasperation, "_Again_, Potter? _Again!?_ Go, just go. Go to the Headmaster's office," and slammed the office door in his face.

"_So_, Mr. Potter," Professor Macmillan said a final time, settling dramatically into the chair behind the desk, "wandering about after hours?"

Albus mumbled something.

"Speak up, dear boy."

"Yes, sir."

"The Head of House usually deals with after hours penalties. Why have you been sent to me? Do you know?"

"Professor Hawthrop--" he began tentatively.

"Yes!" Macmillan interrupted, apparently excited that Albus had caught on so quickly. Albus stared at him, bewildered. "Professor Hawthrop is beside himself that you have been caught yet again wandering after hours. This makes how many times?"

Caught off guard that he was actually being called on to contribute, Albus stammered, "Uh-- six? I think it's-- yes, six."

And Professor Macmillan swept off again into his exposition, saying, "Now, poor Hawthrop has tried everything, I believe. Various levels of detention, I understand, even called you into his office for a heart-to-heart."

Albus cringed at the mention of this "heart-to-heart," as Macmillan was intent on calling it. That was one of the most uncomfortable times of his life, second only perhaps to surprising his parents-- he cringed again, his thoughts veering back to the present. Anyway, the "heart-to-heart" had been less of a friendly chat than an interrogation as to why he _insisted_ in sneaking around the castle at night, poking into trophy cases everyone but the house elves had forgotten about.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I believe this is nothing more than a case of overexuberance in regards to the mystique and magic, if you will," he paused to chuckle slightly at his own joke while Albus remained stony-faced, "of the Hogwarts castle. In the beginning of the year we often have outbreaks of first-year students exploring the castle when they shouldn't be, trying to discover its secrets." Albus decided it wasn't worth reminding him that it was nearly Christmas. "Now, I--"

Professor Macmillan was interrupted by a knock at the door. Professor Longbottom, though Albus had known him as Neville for years before, burst in without waiting for any sort of answer, looking frantic. "Ernie!" he cried, then caught sight of Albus. "Oh, I mean, uh, Professor Macmillan, Peeves is harassing the elves and they--"

"Say no more, Professor Longbottom!" Ernie Macmillan, now Headmaster of Hogwarts, said grandly. "Say no more. I'm on my way. Albus, if you will wait, it should take but a few moments." With that, he swept out of the office past Neville, who grinned at Albus and waved before leaving.

Relieved of the headmaster's slightly over-bearing presence, Albus was at last at liberty to inspect the office around him. While he had been in trouble plenty of times before, he had never been in this particular office. The portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses covered the walls; several of the occupants were inspecting him blatantly and whispering to each other. Disconcerted, he edged out of his chair and walked around, inspecting the room up close. When they continued to watch him, he tried to ignore them and went to the Sorting Hat where it sat in its corner.

"So he named you Albus, did he?" said a voice.

Albus jumped and whirled around to an empty room. For a moment, confusion reigned, but then he saw a wizard with a crooked nose, a long silver beard, and keen blue eyes behind half moon glasses smiling at him from a nearby frame. He recognized him as Albus Dumbledore, his namesake.

"Personally," Dumbledore continued, "I'd have suggested Brian. It's really a nice name. Pity it's so unpopular amongst the wizarding folk."

"I see Potter has passed on his penchant for trouble making to his sons," drawled a sallow wizard with greasy black hair. "It seems to run in the family. Hopefully mediocrity doesn't as well."

"Harry didn't pass on his cloak to you and James, then?" Dumbledore said, ignoring the other wizard.

Albus didn't even bother asking how they knew his brother's name. James had been to the headmaster's office several times, having learned a love of pranks from their Uncle George. "No, he needs it. Besides, Aunt Hermione started yelling at him when Uncle Ron brought it up when James was starting last year."

"Yes, well, I suppose you two can get along without it."

"That didn't stop you from giving Potter the cloak while he was in school," observed the sallow wizard.

"I have my reasons, Severus."

Severus Snape scoffed. "You always do." He looked at Albus, who was gaping at his portrait. "What are you staring at, Potter?"

"_You're_ Severus?" Albus gasped.

Snape eyed him unpleasantly. He bore too much of a resemblance to Harry. "Yes," he said shortly.

"Dad named me after _you_?" Albus said incredulously. "Why?"

"_What_?" Snape exclaimed, shocked as well. Dumbledore sat in his frame, grinning and twiddling his fingers.

"Severus. Albus Severus Potter," Albus said by way of explanation. "He said that you were one of the bravest men he'd ever known!"

Snape stared at Albus, suddenly fascinated by the boy. He did not fail to notice Albus' strikingly familiar eyes...

"This is one of the few times I've seen him speechless," Dumbledore confided in Albus. "You must understand, he and your father... had their differences when your father was his student."

Snape rounded on Dumbledore. "You knew," he accused.

Dumbledore gave a small smile, and shrugged casually. "I'd heard rumours."

"So why did Dad name me after you if you hated each other?" Albus demanded of Snape.

"I wouldn't hazard a guess," Snape said, less acid in his tone than usual.

"Wouldn't you?" Dumbledore asked. Snape glared at him. "He does bear a striking resemblance to his father, doesn't he, Severus?"

"And grandfather," Snape grumbled.

"No, his father, I think. He has Lily's eyes too."

Whatever Snape wanted to say to this, he was cut short by the door opening, and Professor Macmillan entering. "Ah, young Potter, you seem to have met Professors Dumbledore and Snape," he said, joining Albus in front of the portraits. "Both were Headmasters during my time, and your father's. Well, your father was away while Professor Snape was headmaster, but you'll know all about that." He shepherded Albus back to the desk, and they resumed their previous seats. "You know, Albus, I went to school with your father."

"Really?" Albus asked eagerly. This was exactly the sort of information he wanted. "Did you know him?"

"Know him? Yes, yes, Harry and I were great friends."

Albus was surprised by this. He knew Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione had obviously been his father's best friends. They regularly visited Neville when it wasn't the school year. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had been round for dinner a few times with their families. Flighty Auntie Luna, though she wasn't really his aunt, would drift in a few times a year. The most Albus had heard of Professor Macmillan was Uncle Ron's incredulous laughter and his father's "_Ernie_ is headmaster?" when his appointment was announced.

"But he's so pompous!" Ron had gasped between fits of laughter.

"What's pompous?" Albus had wanted to know.

"Uncle Percy," his mother had responded without missing a beat.

Albus realized that Professor Macmillan was still talking, though he had just spaced out for at least a minute. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to pay attention.

"Headmaster, are you quite done with Potter?" Professor Hawthrop yawned from the doorway. "It's getting late."

"Why, Merlin's beard, so it is. Very well, off to bed with you, young man. Stay out of trouble. Good night." Professor Macmillan waved to Albus as he left with Hawthrop. Behind him, Dumbledore waved cheerily.

Albus shivered a little in the cooler air of the corridors. He had forgotten to wear a sweater on this particular night outing. Professor Hawthrop kept glaring at him, presumably for neccessitating so much effort in one night.

Once he was back in his dormitory, snuggled under his blankets in his four poster, it occurred to him. _Dad could have slept here!_ he realized. The wave of excitement at this thought was swamped by a larger wave of exhaustion. Tomorrow he could find more information. Tomorrow...

* * *

A/N: Yes, I made Ernie Macmillan Headmaster. Why, you ask? Because I thought it'd be hilarious. As always, love to reviewers, more love to... idea givers?... sure, idea givers. 


	6. The Inheritance

Disclaimer: I just watched Goblet of Fire again. I wish I owned this.

And what is this? Two in a row of mine own ideas? Wait. Crap. I think my friend came up with this one.

God damn.

* * *

"Okay, Ron, your job is to divert Hermione."

"How do I do that?"

"Ronniekins, you've had two children. You can't think of anything?"

"Shut up, George. Ron, I dunno, throw a book at her."

"Or abuse a house elf."

"Oh yeah, and where am I—"

"Quiet, you two."

"Muffliato?"

"Yeah, of course, but she'll freak if she finds out about that too."

"Focus, boys, focus."

"Right. So Ron, you're abusing house elves and distracting Hermione. George, you stand lookout. Try to be inconspicuous, unlike last time."

"You mean me screaming, 'You'd better stop doing things that anger Hermione, for hell hath no fury like a woman' wasn't helpful?"

"Not particularly, no. Ginny, you're the backup diversion."

"I think I should be the primary diversion, if Ron doesn't even know how to distract his own wife."

"I prefer reliable backups."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Ron. And I—"

"Get the easy part," Ginny, Ron, and George all finished for him.

"Er, right," said Harry. "So, um, Ron, go… divert. George, I suppose you can just be next to the door. We'll just need a few seconds if she's coming, so it should be fine if you just listen for her. Ginny, I think I could use you in here with me and the kids, as long as you think you'll have enough time to cover if we need you to." Everyone nodded, and went to their respective post. Ron went to find Hermione, George ushered in the children and then stationed himself by the door, and Ginny sat beside Harry on the loveseat. James, Albus, Lily, Rose, and Hugo arranged themselves on the sofa.

"Alright," said James Potter, taking the lead as befitted him being the eldest, "what's all the mystery about? You've stuck us in the kitchen for a half hour _at least_, so this had better be pretty important."

"In my day, I would have had my ears boxed for such impudence," George said.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ignore him," she told the children. "His ears were boxed because he would set fire to carpet."

"That was accidental."

"Anyway," Harry said firmly, "we just had to plan how we were going to give this to you." He pulled the Marauder's Map from his pocket, tapped it with his wand, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

As the words "The Marauder's Map" traced themselves across the top of the previously empty parchment, George said warmly, "I remember when Fred and I gave you that. That was your third year, wasn't it? Ah, those were the days." He considered for a moment. "Yep. Those were the days, back when we were all in mortal peril and didn't know it." He grinned at the confused children. "Good times."

"What does it do?" Albus asked, watching warily as ink lines continued spreading across the parchment.

"It's a map, you—"

"George," Ginny said dangerously.

"As your uncle has so kindly informed you, this is a map. My father and his friends made it while they were at school," Harry explained, spreading it on the coffee table so the children could inspect it. "See those dots? This map tells you where everyone is at Hogwarts, every minute of every day."

"I like this already," James said, moving closer to the map.

"You should hide it as a spare bit of parchment when you're not using it. To reveal the map, you tap it with your wand and say 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.' Once you're done with it, you simply tap it and say 'Mischief managed,' and it wipes itself clean," Harry said, demonstrating.

James looked up at his father and grinned. "Brilliant," he said.

"Wait a minute," said Hugo Weasley. "Why are you giving us this? This is something you should be keeping from us, isn't it?"

"Well, we weren't planning on doing this. But you lot are a lot worse at sneaking around than we were," Harry said.

"And, frankly, we're tired of Ernie—Professor Macmillan—sending us owls whenever the lot of you get caught sneaking around pulling pranks on the Slytherins and whatnot," Ginny said. "So please, take the map and _be sneakier_."

"I think he wants to feel important, like he's in regular correspondence with such an important family," George said from the door.

Ginny scoffed. "Loses some of its ring when his correspondence consists of 'James and Albus blew up a toilet today.'"

"I was so proud," George sniffed.

"Well they got _caught_," Harry said, giving the boys a disappointed look. They smiled at him, unperturbed.

"Well we don't have an Invisibility Cloak," Rose pointed out.

"Yeah, well…" Harry started uncertainly.

"Be sneakier," Ginny said.

"Speaking of," said George. "Footsteps."

Harry hurriedly stuffed the blank Marauder's Map in his pocket. Ginny was on her feet and halfway to the door as Hermione came storming in, Ron following behind her.

"Hermione, I didn't—"

"Ron, go away! I don't want to talk to you at the moment!"

"'Mione, I'm sorry. I—"

"Hermione," Ginny said, taking Hermione by the arm and attempting to steer her from the room, "there you are. I've been looking for you. What's my brother gone and done now?"

Hermione stopped, eyed Ginny suspiciously, then looked around at the rest of the carefully composed, blank faces surrounding her. "What's going on here?" she demanded.

"Nothing,"Harry said quickly.

"Dad was just giving us all a scolding about how we had better not get into any trouble this year," Lily said smoothly. "Especially to James and Albus, since they're always in trouble. He doesn't want them dragging Hugo and I into it this year."

"Really?" Hermione said skeptically. "He had no problem getting all of us into trouble our first year."

"That was not—"

"That duel with Malfoy? Or did you forget?"

"You insisted on coming, and Filch didn't catch us."

"Oh, no, we only ran into a locked room with a _three headed dog _in it!" Hermione snapped.

"I didn't hear you arguing when we saved you from that troll," Harry said hotly.

"Well--!" Hermione started angrily.

Ginny dragged her away, saying, "Now that you're mad at Harry too, let's go outside and you can tell me about how stupid they are."

"You know, Ron, diversions usually take place _away_ from the covert operation," George said helpfully.

"Shuddup," Ron grumbled, flopping down beside Harry. "Sorry."

"That's why we have a backup," Harry said bracingly.

"A reliable backup," put in George.

"George…"

"Right, right."

"Right, then. James, I'm giving this to you, seeing as you're the oldest," Harry said, passing the Marauder's Map across to his son. James tucked it into his pocket. "Take care of it, and for the love of God don't bicker over it. You all are old enough to share properly."

The five children nodded. James was already fairly established as their ringleader, with the others being contributing members of this quintet of chaos. James was usually the one to come up with some wild idea, and they would all put their heads together to plan and pull off said idea accordingly.

"Now scatter, before Hermione comes back," Ron said urgently.

"Wait until tomorrow, on the train," Harry called softly, as the children scampered away. "You can all look at it then. Go put it in your trunk, James."

"Thanks Dad," James said quietly, as he passed. Harry ruffled his hair, and he bolted, trying to flatten it as he went.

The children gone, George flopped onto the sofa. "Avoiding Hermione's wrath is more exhausting than avoiding Filch ever was."

"Hermione's smarter than Filch," Ron pointed out, stretching. "You actually have to put forth effort to fool her."

"D'you reckon we should actually be angry with them for not being better behaved than us?" Harry wondered aloud.

"What's the point?" George said. "They'll do it anyway."

"I prefer to think that my children are more obedient than you ever were as a child," Harry said.

George snickered. "Keep dreaming."

Ginny burst into the room, looking pale.

"Uh oh," said Ron. "Did she kill one of them?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, but she's very suspicious. She's looking for them all now."

Ron sighed gustily and stood. "I suppose we have to go save them, don't we?"

Harry stood as well. "At the very least, they shouldn't have to face a wrathful Hermione on their own."

They turned to the door, and were met with the sight of a _very_ displeased Hermione.

"Bugger," Ron said.

* * *

A/N: Oh Hermione. How we love thee. You know, Ron is a surprisingly fun character to write. Good ol' Ronniekins.

Review, inspire, love to all. Ta!


	7. Tea Time

A/N: Right, sorry about the mess with all the chapters. In case no one's looking at the intro anymore, I'm now just going to leave the chapters in the order of updating. I won't go back and fix the ones already updated because that'll inevitably cause more confusion. So yeah.

Right, so, there are a lot of excellent ideas coming through. Now I just need to make my mind work and construct something around them. But keep 'em coming!

Disclaimer: The only similarity J.K. Rowling and I have as writers is the love of strong characters. Other than that, I do not understand her. And yes, that counts as a disclaimer.

* * *

Albus Potter fidgeted as he walked to the small hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. His cousin, Rose Weasley, walked next to him. He had asked his older brother, James, to come with him too, but James had laughed and disappeared with his friends. Albus scowled as he thought about it. Rose caught his look, and did an excellent impression of her mother's sigh. "Al, there's no use staying angry at James," she told him.

"He could have come with," Albus complained. "He said yesterday that he wanted to go see Hagrid."

"Well why didn't you go with him yesterday?"

"Because he threatened to hex me."

Rose giggled. She was an interesting girl, an odd blend of her parents. Her mother's brains she had inherited, but she was generally more like her father in temperment. However, when discord loomed between her cousins she became a miniature of Hermione and handled most situations with more tact than her father could ever have managed. "Maybe you should have threatened to hex him back," she suggested.

"Rose, we haven't _learned_ any hexes yet. We've been in school, what, four days?"

"About," she said fairly. "You could always—"

"I swear, Rose, if you say the word library…"

Rose grinned wickedly, a habit she had picked up from her Uncle George, and fell silent. They continued in this way to Hagrid's hut. Albus knocked on the door.

There was a series of loud barks, and a call of, "I'm comin', I'm comin'. _Down,_ Bear, _down!_" The door opened slightly, and Hagrid's face appeared, all bushy hair and wide smile. The snout of a grey Irish wolfhound was snuffling in the gap between Hagrid's side and the door frame. "Sorry, just a—BEAR!" The door snapped closed, and there was some scuffling heard. Hagrid opened the door. "Sorry. Come in, come—NO, BEAR, NO!"

The dog, Bear, had escaped from Hagrid's grasp and bounded out of the door, nearly bowling over Albus and Rose. He was nearly as tall as they were, but seemed to have the idea that he was still the size of a puppy. He kept whipping around, changing his mind about who he wanted to sniff and whose face he wanted to lick, and repeatedly slapped them in the stomachs with his furiously wagging tail. Hagrid grasped Bear's collar again, and kept him at bay long enough for Albus and Rose to edge in the door past them.

"There now, let's have a look at yeh," Hagrid said, releasing Bear. Bear started sniffing every inch of the children that he could. Hagrid scanned them. "Gettin' enough sleep? How're yer lessons?"

Rose made a very Ron-like face. "Mum told you to check on us," she said.

Hagrid chuckled. "Sit down, then. Tell me about yer lessons," he said. They sat around his table, and he filled three gigantic mugs with steaming tea. "Help yerselves to me rock cakes. Yer fathers used to like 'em."

Rose and Albus exchanged a discreet look. They had heard about Hagrid's cooking from their fathers. Warily, they each took a rock cake and tried it. They lived up to their reputation, and Albus was certain he felt one of his molars loosen.

Bear saved them when he tried to jump into Albus' lap, convinced he was the proper size for a lapdog. He knocked the rock cakes off the table in the process, and effectively squashed the poor boy. Hagrid jumped up and scolded him, dragging the whining dog off of Albus. Albus promptly toppled off of his chair. Bear loomed over him, licking his face. Hagrid dragged him off again.

"Sorry. Still thinks he's a pup. _Down_, Bear. _Sit_, yeh mangy dog."

Hagrid sat back down, and Bear contented himself with staring intently at Rose and Albus with gleeful eyes. Rose amused herself by starting a staring contest between herself and the dog, leaving her cousin to recap their first week.

"Professor Pratchett says I'm very good at Charms," Albus was saying. "I haven't even set anything on fire, but Dermot Mullen's blown up six feathers. I'm not very good at Potions, though. Professor Troxel took away five points from Gryffindor when I melted my cauldron by accident. Rose managed to burn a hole in Professor Rowsey's robes in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I'm not really sure how…"

"Because _you_ bumped my elbow," Rose retorted, not breaking eye contact with Bear, who thumped his tail against the floor.

"Did not!" Albus said hotly.

"Did too."

"Did—"

"Alrigh', alrigh'," Hagrid said, laughing. "Now, what's this tha' Neville—er, Professor Longbottom—was tellin' me about Herbology on Wednesday?"

Albus turned a deep scarlet as Rose burst into hysterical giggles. Albus gave her a dirty look. "I'm sorry, Al," she gasped between giggles. "But it was funny. Hagrid, you wouldn't believe that Al—" The glare intensified from her cousin. Rose coughed delicately and schooled her features into a polite face. "I'm sorry, Hagrid, but you'll have to ask Professor Longbottom more about it if you want to hear the whole story," she said primly. When Albus looked away, she grinned at Hagrid and winked.

They carried on together for a comfortable time. Bear was gnawing on the rock cakes on the floor. Albus stopped sulking and rejoined the conversation with Rose and Hagrid. The children were startled by a loud squaking cry from behind the little house in the forest. It was suddenly very quiet around the table.

"Hagrid," Rose said nervously, "what was that?"

Hagrid's eyes became very bright. "I nearly forgot!" he exclaimed, jumping up. Rose and Albus were nearly thrown off of their chairs as the table lurched unexpectedly. "C'mon, yeh've got ter meet Buckbeak."

"Buckbeak?" Rose and Albus repeated. They knew this name well. With an excited glance to each other, they rushed after Hagrid. Bear pelted clumsily after them.

Hagrid led them a little way into the woods. "Can't have 'im out in the open, yeh see," he explained. "The parents migh' raise a fuss." They came into a clearing. Rose and Albus were disappointed to find it empty. Suddenly, Hagrid clapped his hands and hollered, "BUCKBEAK!" Bear barked, startled.

At first, nothing moved. Then, out of the trees just ahead of them, a magnificent beast strode towards them. Its front half and front legs were those of a grey eagle, its hindquarters of a silvery horse. (A/N: Yes, I'm pulling this description out of my ass. Get over it.) Its elegant head, with its imperious amber eyes and wicked-looking beak was turned inquisitively towards them. Buckbeak the hippogriff opened his beak and made another of those squaking cries, this one softer than the other, more inquisitive.

"Oh," breathed Rose. "He's beautiful."

Buckbeak fixed her with one large eye. She squeaked and went absolutely still.

"Do yeh want to touch him?"

"Do I!" Albus said, his eyes riveted.

"Step forward, then." Albus did so. Buckbeak looked at him curiously. "Now bow to him." Shaking, Albus bowed. Buckbeak cocked his head, and bowed back. "There! I think he recognizes Harry in yeh. Yeh can touch 'im now." Albus reached out a trembling hand and stroked the silky feathers on Buckbeak's neck, then turned to Hagrid and grinned. Hagrid turned to Rose, who still hadn't moved. "How 'bout you, Rose?" he asked.

There was a look of great determination on Rose's face as she stepped forward. She bowed very low, and immediately Buckbeak bent in a return bow. She joined Albus in stroking Buckbeak's neck.

"I think he'd let you ride 'im," Hagrid said brightly. He stepped forward.

"Whoa," Rose said loudly. "Wait a minute. He's letting who ride him?"

Hagrid looked confused. "Both o' yeh," he said, as if this should have been obvious.

"Hagrid—"

"He carried yer Mum and Harry, _and_ Sirius Black when yer parents were in third year," Hagrid pointed out, hoisting a limply protesting Albus onto Buckbeak's back. Buckbeak turned his head, seemed to be indifferent to Albus' presence, and turned back around. "He can carry you two." He lifted Rose onto the hippogriff's back behind her cousin. "Mind yeh don't pull out 'is feathers, Al."

"Rose, you're squeezing my stomach out of my nose," Albus informed her breathlessly. She was clinging to him very tightly around the waist.

"Hagrid, I really don't think—" Rose started, ignoring Albus.

Hagrid slapped Buckbeak's rump, who surged into motion. A few galloping steps, and his great wings spread and they were soaring up through the forest canopy towards the blue sky.

* * *

A/N: Hm. Not one of my best ones. But hey, I really needed to finish writing something. Thanks for reading! Please review, and definitely feel free to give even more ideas. Honestly, they're all great so far, it just depends on whether my mind feels like supplying the meat to your story bones. 


	8. The Family Portrait

Disclaimer: I might own the photographer.

Thanks to csi-jess for the idea. I think this is what you meant, anyway….

* * *

_That poor man_, Ginny thought, studying the photographer. Her mother had gotten the idea from somewhere—Ginny suspected some ridiculous radio program—that they needed to have a family portrait taken. _And this poor wizard got dragged into it. I think we should pay him extra._

Harry came up behind her, and slipped his arms around her waist. "Hello, beautiful," he said in her ear.

Ginny grinned. "Hello. Where's James?"

"With Ron. He's apparently in training for fatherhood."

She turned to stare at him incredulously. "You left our son with my brother?"

"Ginny, honestly, you should trust him more," Harry chided her. "He's not going to break the baby. Besides… Hermione's with him."

She turned back around and leaned against Harry. "I've been watching the photographer," she informed him. Mrs. Weasley was bustling between the kitchen and the sitting room, for reasons unknown to anyone but herself. She kept fussing over the photographer, making sure he had everything he needed. He was paling so quickly that Ginny half expected him to disappear.

"He looks rather green," Harry observed.

"Chartreuse, I think, is the shade." She reached up and linked her arms around his neck. "I think we should pay him extra."

"We can at least pay for the therapy,"Harry agreed.

"Hey lovebirds, let's go," George said, poking his head into the kitchen. "Mum's going to lay an egg if we don't get everyone in here and this stupid picture taken." He finally noticed the photographer, standing awkwardly in the kitchen. "Oh… and, um… you should come too. I suppose." He made a harassed face at Ginny, and retreated to the sitting room. Ginny gave the photographer a sympathetic look as Harry led her into the sitting room.

Mayhem reigned, as was to be expected. Teddy Lupin was chasing little Victoire around, both of them weaving between furniture and adult legs with the ease of practice. Andromeda Tonks, unofficially adopted into the family along with her grandson, was vainly trying to persuade Teddy to behave. George had hidden one of his diversion decoys in the vase that held the Floo powder, and Bill was attempting to put out the resulting fire. Charlie was laughing hysterically while calling out suggestions. Fleur was alternately scowling at Charlie and bestowing glowing looks on Bill. Percy was berating George, who dodged around people, resulting in two childish chases colliding at high speed. Ron was looking rather like a dragon protecting his hoard as he deflected as much madness as he could from a very pregnant Hermione.

Hermione made her way to Harry and Ginny, Ron following her, alert for flying children. "It's a bit mad in here, isn't it?" she said breathlessly. "I hereby return your baby safe and unharmed." She handed baby James into Ginny's arms. "And I am happy to inform you that Ron is completely capable of keeping a child alive."

"Yeah, apparently diaper changing is the next step," Ron said.

"Have fun," Harry said drily.

Ron lowered his voice and spoke to Harry alone. "I'm actually hoping it's not a boy," he said, pointing at Hermione's belly. "She says that when you change their diapers… they pee on you."

Harry laughed at the look on Ron's face. "Yes, Ron, they do. In fact, James did that to me last week."

Ron looked very disturbed that he had held said child without this knowledge. Mr. Weasley joined them a moment later. "I feel sorry for this chap," he said, jerking his thumb at the trembling photographer. "Molly always goes a bit… off when she has these types of plans."

"Arthur! For heaven's sake, Arthur, come help me," Mrs. Weasley called to him sharply.

He winced and edged away, saying, "You'd best just do as she says."

It was an interesting time as Admiral Molly Weasley marshaled her troops with her Leftenant Arthur. The family meekly submitted to her directions as she arranged them, then rearranged them, and then rearranged them for the fifteenth time. It didn't seem to be ending any time soon.

James started crying. "Oh Ginny, keep him still." Ginny anxiously tried to quiet him.

George kept switching places with people without anyone noticing.

"GEORGE WEASLEY IF YOU SWITCH PLACES ONE MORE TIME—"

"You'll blow off my other ear?"

"_Don't tempt me._"

"Well, I'd be even then. It's kind of awkward being asymmetrical."

Charlie dug his wand into George's kidney, and George finally shut up.

Teddy kept cycling through different looks. Sometimes it was very tiresome to have a young Metamorphogus (A/N: SP? No, I will not look up how to spell it. Blow me.) in the family.

"For heaven's sake, Teddy, can't you pick one?"

Harry was impressed that his godson kept a perfectly straight face—in a manner of speaking-- as he settled his features into a grotesque distortion with poofy neon green hair. Andromeda turned red and twisted Teddy's ear. Teddy scowled and returned his face to normal. His hair shortened and turned back into his usual bright blue.

Okay, so maybe they weren't exactly meek. But in the end, all their subversive measures made it worse for them, and it finished no sooner or later than it would have either way.

With everyone in place, the photographer finally snapped a picture, and looked ready to flee. But Molly stopped him and made him take at least nine more shots. Just in case. He was paid, Ginny slipped a few extra Galleons into his bag of equipment, and the poor man escaped and Apparated almost before he was out of the garden.

* * *

A week later, an owl arrived, carrying a large envelope of prints of the photo. Mrs. Weasley tore open the package excitedly. A note fluttered onto the kitchen table where she stood. She gasped when she saw the portrait, and snatched up the little note. It said:

This is the best picture. Believe me, the rest were worse.

-Elwood Williar

Her head felt light and woozy, and she sat down in a chair. She stared incredulously at the photo in her hand.

George had procured from somewhere a large Easter bonnet and stood grinning and waving at her out of the picture. Teddy had turned his hair into the carbon copy of Victoire's, and he was pulling a particularly round curl of hers while smiling a little boy's naughty smile. Victoire was crying. Andromeda and Fleur were scolding them. Charlie had pulled a face at a completely oblivious Percy at the last minute. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were laughing hysterically.

Mrs. Weasley closed her eyes and leaned away from it. So much for her grand plan.

Mr. Weasley came into the kitchen, looking for his breakfast, which was currently burning on the stove. "Molly?" he said tentatively, fearing for a second that someone's house and burst into flames or something.

"Look at it."

"Pardon?"

"Look at it!" she said fiercly, thrusting the picture towards him.

He grinned as he looked over it. That was his family, all right. Seeing the murderous look on his wife's face, he quickly sobered up. "Um. Yes. Dreadful."

"Arthur! Don't you care?"

"Molly, if it weren't like this, they'd probably all be under the Imperius Curse."

"Arthur!"

"Oh, Mollywobbles, look at this." He put the picture back in front of her. "They all look so happy."

"Your son is wearing a bonnet."

"It's a very fetching bonnet."

"Teddy's mimicking your granddaughter."

"He mimics everyone. It'd be cruel if he left her out. She'd feel lonely."

"And what about Charlie?"

His mouth twitched. "He always was a boisterous little boy."

"And Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny! They're laughing!"

"Well it is pretty funny."

"I don't think it's funny."

"Look more closely at them, Mollywobbles. See how happy those boys look with the girls. See how Harry has his arms around Ginny and James? And how Ron has his hand on Hermione's belly and his other arm around her shoulders?" He kissed her cheek. "I wouldn't want to see our sons and daughters any other way." He glanced at the smoking mess on the stove. "I'll just, um… grab a bite on the road. Good bye, love. I'll see you tonight."

"Goodbye, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said absently. She was studying the picture more closely. Slowly, a smile spread over her face.

When Mr. Weasley returned home that night, the picture was framed and set in the center of the mantlepiece.

* * *

A/N: Oh fun. Yay for the Weasley extended family! They feel like my family, but hopped up on ridiculous amounts of caffeine and sugar.

I think I might need to up my rating if I keep having these obscene outbursts in a/n's in the middle of the story. ::blushes:: Sorry.


	9. The Moon

Disclaimer: It is all Jo Rowling's fault that Teddy has almost as much angst as Harry does. I had nothing to do with it.

Thanks for the idea, mctwist!

PREPARE FOR THE ANGST!

* * *

A week past the full moon, Harry Potter brushed off his shirt as he stepped out of the fireplace onto the rug in Andromeda Tonks' sitting room. She was sitting anxiously in an armchair, and jumped to her feet to greet him. "Harry!"she said warmly, her relief at seeing him not quite concealed. "Thank you so much for coming. I know you must be busy."

"It's fine. It's part of my job, isn't it?" Harry said, smiling. He gave her a hug. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. I just worry about him, Harry. I know it's normal at this age, but he worries me when he gets like this," Andromeda said, wringing her hands.

Harry patted her shoulder. "Don't worry too much, Andromeda. We all got through it when we were his age. He's upstairs?" She nodded. Harry gave her hand a comforting squeeze and climbed the stairs. He hesitated outside of Teddy's door, and braced himself mentally. His own children were young—James had only recently turned seven—and his only familiarity with this stage of childhood was his own. He didn't feel it was a very good starting point.

He knocked firmly on the door. "What?" Teddy shouted from within, sounding extremely peeved. Harry felt a brief but intense gratitude for the fact that Teddy was only fourteen, and couldn't hex him.

"It's Harry," he called through the door. "Can I come in?"

"Go away."

"Teddy, please open the door."

"Open the door yourself," Teddy yelled. "I _dare_ you."

"Teddy, you are a fourteen-year-old boy, and I spend my days battling dangerous dark wizards. Your _dares_ are hardly worrisome," Harry snapped.

"Then you are perfectly capable of opening the door yourself, aren't you?"

"Excuse me for trying to be nice. Next time I'll ignore any claims to privacy you have as my godson."

There was a minute of stony silence. "Fine," Teddy grunted. "Come in."

Harry opened the door and stepped into Teddy's bedroom. Closing the door, he flicked his wand at the windows. The dark curtains that had been pulled across them flew open, and the bright sunlight poured in. Lying on the bed was a teenaged boy—a little short for his age, he had light brown eyes and mousy brown hair at the moment. He was scowling at the ceiling. Harry leaned against a wall and waited.

"Did Gran send you to cheer me up?" Teddy asked waspishly.

"Why on earth would she do that?" Harry drawled. "Obviously you're just spouting rainbows."

"Oh well why wouldn't I be?" Teddy said, sarcastically hyperactive. "I mean, my life is just so _great_. I get to grow up with my aging Grandmother! Any boy would dream of such a life."

"Don't even try it, Teddy," Harry said, annoyed. "You're fed, clothed, sheltered, and loved."

"And my parents are dead!" Teddy yelled.

"And so were mine!" Harry yelled back. "Don't pull the orphan card with me, Teddy. My aunt and uncle treated me a hell of a lot worse than your grandmother ever could treat you, so don't expect any pity from me."

"I'm sorry for not being as perfect as you, then! There's the door, Boy Wonder. Don't let it hit you on the way out." Teddy rolled over so that his back was to Harry.

Harry felt a very strong urge to hex him, but he closed his eyes and counted to eighty-seven to calm down. Normally he counted to ten, but that apparently really only worked when your daughter spilled milk on the new sofa or something of that nature. "She's worried about you, Ted," he said, finally.

"Why are you still here?"

"Because I'm bigger than you."

"I could hex you."

"Because I'd be somehow incapable of shielding myself? Besides, then you'd be expelled and have to spend all your time here in such misery."

"Fine! Why is Gran worried, anyway? Just because I don't particularly feel like leaving my room—"

"She doesn't like seeing you this way, especially when you won't tell her what's wrong."

"Why should I tell her what's wrong?" Teddy burst out, sitting up. "She's nothing like me, she couldn't understand."

"Believe it or not, your emotions do not flood from your body the moment you come of age. Your grandmother has been through just as much as you have, and—"

"Fine, just as much," Teddy interrupted impatiently. "But the same things? I don't think _her_ father was a werewolf."

His words hung in the air for a while. "Is that what this is about?" Harry asked finally.

"Maybe," Teddy mumbled defensively.

Harry looked at the floor, scrambling in his head for something to say. Teddy saved him the trouble when he jumped to his feet and started pacing.

"It's just… did he know?" he said in a rush. Harry could tell that this had been bothering him for a very long time. "Did he know that once a month I wouldn't be able to stand being around anyone? That I'd just be so unreasonable that I'd fly off the handle at the slightest provocation?" He kicked the desk in frustration. "I'm like Victoire when she's on her period."

Harry tactfully contained his laughter. "Look, Teddy, he didn't know—exactly," he said. "He and Tonks— I mean, your mum—fought for ages because he didn't want to make her an outcast. He was terrified that if he married her, other witches and wizards would look down on her."

"But he did marry her, and they had me."

"Yes, they did. And your dad was scared out of his mind that he would have made you a werewolf too. He didn't want you to be saddled with the same things that he had when he was a boy. It broke his heart to think that he could be the reason for your pain—and your mother's—when he loved you both so much."

Teddy stood in the middle of his room, looking dejected, his hands hanging by his sides. "So why did they leave?" he asked, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, and said more strongly, "Why did they leave me with Gran to go fight?"

Harry crossed the room and laid his hands on Teddy's shoulders. Teddy looked up at him. "They loved you, Teddy," he said softly. "Remus had a picture of you to show us when he arrived to help with the battle. He was so proud."

"Mum left me to find him," Teddy pointed out.

"Who says that it was easy for her? She knew you would be safe with Andromeda, whatever happened to her and Remus." He hesitated for a second, and then pulled Teddy into a hug. The boy returned the hug after his own hesitation. "They fought for you, Ted. Your parents did a lot for me over the years, but they didn't die for me. They died for you."

Teddy sniffed noisily and turned away. "I'd prefer it if they were alive," he mumbled.

"Trust me," Harry said, "I know how you feel."

* * *

A/N: Orphans are always angsty. Oh I'm sorry, did that ruin the moment::scampers away::

I was a little iffy on the ending. I wasn't sure if I should keep going. I decided to stop, just in case. Feedback on that would be luuuuuuurvely. And on everything else. But let's not be greedy. ::blows kisses::


	10. Brotherly Love

A/N: I feel like making jokes about Philadelphia with this title. Damn. Anyway, I think this idea was in part inspired by Mrs. H Potter. I have a feeling it's different than you imagined, but I point energetically at the part in the intro saying I get to do what I want with it.

Disclaimer: Where the hell did Rose and Hugo come from? Way for Ron and Hermione to have completely not significantly named children. Sheesh. WAY TO GO, JO! There. That's my disclaimer.

* * *

Albus and James Potter were in trouble. Again.

_Well_¸James thought to himself, _technically we're not in trouble_ yet_. They haven't caught us. Yet._

"This would be a lot easier," Albus panted beside him as they hurtled through a secret passage, "if Dad would just give us that stupid cloak."

"Agreed," James replied. "Oops, watch out for that step."

"It never fails," Albus grumbled. "I always forget about this stupid vanishing step. Help me out, will you?"

"Well, I dunno. I think they'd be sufficiently distracted by apprehending you that I could escape," James said, grinning. They could hear the teachers coming closer.

"_James_," Albus said through gritted teeth, reaching for his wand.

"Oh, keep your wig on, Granny," James laughed. He grasped his brother's arm and helped lever him out of the vanishing step.

"Thanks."

"POTTER!"

"THAT SHOULD BE PLURAL!" James shouted back. "C'mon, Al." They took off again.

They were running down the Transfiguration corridor when they ran into their fourteen-year-old sister, Lily. "Ah, Lils," James said, as the three of them stopped to talk. "Why am I the one always stuck with Al?"

"You are not leaving me behind again," Albus snapped, shoving his brother.

Lily rolled her eyes at James and said, "Scrub your brain, stupid. You always get me caught."

James waved this aside. "Rose and Hugo?"

"They got Hugo down by Charms," Lily answered. "I don't know about Rose. She and I had to split up. She probably headed for the Room of Requirement."

James nodded. "Standard procedure," he said.

"And Malfoy?" Albus asked.

Lily grinned. "Hugo somehow managed to send a couple of suits of armor at him. I'll have to get him to teach me whatever spell he used."

"Brilliant," Albus said. "What happened?"

"There was a lot of clanging," Lily said, considering it. "I think they were trying to dogpile on him. We heard him yelling, but I don't think he hit the suits with any spells."

"I hope they beat him to a pulp," Albus said, an ugly look on his face.

James laughed at him. "You're just bitter because he got you with Levicorpus in front of Esmeralda Swoope."

Albus didn't get a chance to rebuff this statement, as Professor Troxel, their Potions teacher, rounded the corner at that moment and spotted them. "POTTERS!" he shouted behind him, alerting the other teachers.

"TROXEL!" they bellowed at him, then turned on their heels and fled.

"Why do we heckle them, again?" Lily wanted to know as they ran.

"We're rebellious little buggers," James answered.

They could see the hall ending a few yards in front of them. "Split?" Lily asked, as they hurtled closer.

"Standard procedure," James answered.

Lily and James peeled off into the intersecting corridor, going opposite ways. Albus hesitated. "What way do I--?" he started to demand of them. They obviously weren't listening to him. He grumbled, and pelted after James.

"What, you're still here?" James demanded. "I thought that would have gotten rid of you for good."

"Eventually I'm going to get rid of _you_," Albus promised darkly.

"Very scary, little brother."

Professor Rowsey suddenly appeared from a secret passage just ahead of them. The boys yelped, and turned to run the other way, but Troxel was hot on their tail. Albus grabbed James and dragged him down a side corridor. The two professors following closely, they ducked behind a tapestry. Moving too fast to navigate the secret stairs, they toppled down them, ending in a jumbled pile of fraternal arms and legs.

"Nice move, Al," James muttered as Troxel strutted down the stairs, laughing tauntingly.

Albus groaned and shoved his brother off of him.

"Well well well," Troxel said. "James and Albus Potter. I might have known."

James rolled his eyes. "You _did_ know, twat."

Troxel aimed a kick at James, but Albus whipped out his wand and aimed it at the teacher. Troxel laughed at him. "Going to hex me, Potter?" he sneered.

"Only if you touch my brother," Albus said, icicles dripping off of his voice.

Troxel laughed and pulled his foot back.

"Locomotor Mortis!" Albus shouted. Troxel's legs sprang together, and the boys scrambled to their feet, ignoring Rowsey's bellowing behind them as they ran.

"You really should learn to shut up once in a while," Albus informed his brother.

"Gutsy move back there, Al," James said. "Think they'll expel you?"

"Probably."

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" Rowsey shouted behind them, Troxel running beside him, freed from the Leg-Locker. Rowsey pointed his wand at their feet and jerked it up. The hall runner rug (A/N: Does Hogwarts have carpets? Meh.) flew from beneath their feet and they hit the ground hard. "You two are going straight to the headmaster," he gasped as he reached them and aimed his wand into their faces.

* * *

Professor Macmillan steepled his fingers and peered over them at James, Albus, and their previously captured cousin, Hugo. "_So_," he said dramatically.

As one, the three rolled their eyes. Macmillan failed to notice this, as usual. Once James had slapped his palm against his forehead dramatically when Macmillan unleashed his signature "_So_" and Macmillan was under the impression that James had felt a midge biting him in the middle of the forehead.

"_So_," Rowsey said impatiently, "not only did they _booby trap_ the entrance to the Slytherin common room—"

"It was harmless," James protested.

"Quiet, you!" Troxel shouted, grasping James' robes and shaking him roughly. Albus' grip on his wand tightened. His brother was a git, but they _were_ brothers, and he was a very loyal boy.

"Now, now, calm yourself, Professor," Macmillan admonished gently. Troxel released James, who made a face at him and straightened his robes. "Please, Professor Rowsey, continue."

"They booby trapped the Slytherin common room entrance, ran from teachers—"

"You expected us to stay still?" Hugo muttered under his breath.

Rowsey ignored him and continued, "—and Albus performed the Leg-Locker Curse on Professor Troxel."

Macmillan sat up straighter. "You did what?" he asked, addressing Albus.

"We fell down the stairs, and Troxel—"

"_Professor_ Troxel," Macmillan corrected.

"Whatever!" Albus yelled. "He tried to kick James!"

"For severe impudence!" Troxel said loudly. "And I want this boy expelled!"

"And I want you fired!" Albus retorted.

Macmillan raised a hand for quiet. Grudgingly, he was obeyed. "I believe that now would be a good time to remind everyone that two wrongs do not make a right."

"Well I don't think they should make an expulsion either," Albus pointed out.

Macmillan furrowed his brow, deep in thought. Albus tried to control his breathing, and listened to the blood pounding in his ears.

* * *

"That was bloody brilliant!" James shouted with glee. They had been dismissed from the Headmaster's office, under strict orders to return directly to their dormitories. So, of course, they were heading to the Room of Requirement to check for Rose and Lily. "I can't believe you got away with that, Al!"

Albus was feeling a little too weak-kneed with relief to share in his brother's exuberance. "Yeah. I'd rather not repeat the experience, though, so please refrain from calling teachers twats from now on."

"You might remember," Hugo said loudly to get James' attention, "that he has Saturday detention for nearly the rest of the year."

"You sound like your mother," James said derisively.

"Or Uncle Percy," Albus put in.

Hugo made a face at them. "Have it your way," he said. "I'm going to bed. Anyone feel like following directions and coming with me?"

"No, we're going to the Room of Requirement," James said. "The girls may still be there."

"I'll check for them back at the common room, too," Hugo offered. "Night."

They bade him goodnight, and continued to the Room of Requirement. Rose and Lily were waiting for them there in comfy armchairs next to a cheerful fire. An empty sofa was grouped with the chairs, a coffee table in the middle of the seating.

"It's about time," Rose whined. "Where've you been?"

"Headmaster's office," they replied in unison, flopping onto the sofa. James recounted the events since the five of them had split up.

"You did _what_?" both girls shouted at Albus when James reached the part where Albus hexed Troxel.

"Mum and Dad are going to kill you if you got expelled," Lily said immediately.

"Oh no," Rose said, her hands over her mouth. "What'd Pompous Pants do?"

"Saturday detention for most of the year," Albus said.

"Ouch," she said sympathetically.

"It's better than expulsion," Lily pointed out.

"So where's my beloved brother?" Rose asked.

"He went back to the common room," Albus said.

"We might as well join him," James said. He spread the map out on the coffee table and tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He examined it for a moment. "It looks clear. Pratchett's hovering around on the fourth floor, but if we take that passage behind the portrait of those deranged St. Mungo's Healers we should be fine. Mischief managed." He folded up the map and grinned at Rose and Lily. "Ladies first."

"Don't take so long this time," Rose suggested as she and Lily slipped out the door.

They waited five minutes to follow the girls. "Hey, Al," James started as they went to the door.

"Yeah?"

James shifted awkwardly. "Thanks. For the thing with Troxel."

Albus was fairly certain that this was the first time in his life that James was thanking him for something. It caught him off guard. "Oh. Um. No problem. You'd do the same for me."

"Of course," James said quickly.

Albus rolled his eyes.

"No, I mean it!" James said. "I'm serious, I would. I'd save your skin any day."

"Only to hold it over my head for twenty years. And because Mum and Dad would kill you otherwise," Albus laughed.

"Well, yes. But hey, you're my little brother. We're a team."

Sappy instrumental music filled the air around them.

"What the hell?" James said.

Albus snorted. "Room of Requirement."

"Since when did we require bad violins?"

"It's the brotherly love music."

"Whatever. Let's get out of here before a bassoon shows up."

* * *

A/N: I doubt that a Hogwarts teacher would try to hurt a student. Even one as obnoxious as James. But screw it. I get to play God, dammit! Yeah, it's a little choppy, too. I was getting lazy. Sorry.

I like writing the Potter/Weasley babies when they're older. Mucho fun.

Thanks for reading!


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